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Literature was far more bountiful to him than this ; how to run in harness. He could not sit in an editor's room, like much more bountiful it is impossible and unnecessary to state. many of the nameless prostitutes of journalism, and write In most cases he was fairly, sometimes liberally paid,

consider. leaders to order, without caring what views he advocated. ing that he had no ability to drive a bargain, and seldon any He was not so constituted that he could let his talents out at power of holding on for better offers. He treated his work as so much per night, and grow fat, as wreckers grow fat, by an art up to the point when it became a commodity ready for hanging out false lights in dangerous places. Whatever the market, and then he left it to take its chance. This was faults he may have died with, this crime was not amongst a fatal mistake. More literary reputations have been half. them, and for this reason, if for no other, his helpless family ruined by slop-shop publishers than slop-shop publishers have should be succoured. been ruined by bad authors. A want of trade knowledge, The prose works he has left behind him are the weakest sympathy, or instinct,--trade knowledge in its highest part of his “remains," and his reputation may be safely built sonse,-was Robert Brough's failing. He thought one man's upon the foundation of his poems. These poems will shortly money as good as another's: it is nothing of the kind. He be collected by his brother, John Cargill Brough, and issued was too easily led away by a cheque-book or a bank note, in a volume about next Christmas. Several unpublished and the result is that his hearse is turned into an advertising verses will then appear, and an unfinished but ambitious van, his worst production, Marston Lynch, is hawked about fragment, entitled Gissippus. A hundred years ago these in a motley cover almost over his open grave, and his poems would have placed him high on the roll of poets. Even friends are thus made to appear to be claiming public sympathy now, they will surely add something honourable to English for the family of a tenth-rate novelist!

literature, and live long after such books as his Marston The money he took and spent so readily was never lavished Lynch, Which is Which, and the Life of Falstaff, are deon himself. 'No man had more simple tastes, or was a better servedly forgotten. In his novels, so-called, you see exag. husband or a better father. If the whole truth is stated on gerated plots, inconsistent or undramatic characters, and one side, let it also be stated on the other. Ill-health pro. many evidences of bad taste; it is only in his poems that you duced embarrassments, as it always does ; and a sickly author, see the strength of his genius. inexperienced in business, with no “securities,” is not likely To complete the list of his works it is necessary to add many to make a prudent borrower.

Christmas books, such as Ulf the Minstrel, and the popular His literary career began early. At nineteen years of age burlesques and farcical sketches which he produced, chiefly for he was the editor and only artist of a weekly satirical paper Mr. Robson and the Olympic theatre. These are Medea, published at Liverpool, and called the Liverpool Lion. In Masaniello, The Doge of Duralto, and Alfred the Great, this publication he had the assistance of his brother William, (Olympic buslesques), with the Seven Labours of Hercules, and also in the production of his first burlesque, the Enchanted Kensington Gardens, etc. (occasional farces). These sparkling Isle. He tried acting, and succeeded, particularly in the but ephemeral productions have brought his name most procharacters of Petruchio and Sir Andrew Aguecheek at the minently before the general public, and have overshadowed, Theatre Royal. He was much liked in and about the town; for a time, his more delicate creations. As they helped to and when left Liverpool for a literary career in London keep him, they ought not to be abused, although much of (after the Enchanted Isle was transplanted to the old Adelphi their reputed wit is of a purely mechanical order. Theatre, by Mr. Benjamin Webster) he received many grati. In reviewing the career of Robert B. Brough, it is impog. fying proofs of the esteem in which he was held.

sible to look upon literature as an unreliable “crutch.” Here In London he immediately took root as a stage writer, and was a sickly young man who started in life with no expensive the most popular burlesques of the day were those of the education, with no habits of business, and in a trade requiring "Brothers Brough.” This dramatic partnership with his no plant or capital, beyond a few shillings' worth of pens, ink brother William lasted for some years, during which time and paper, and who for ten years enjoyed his freedom of Robert was busy with other things. He edited the Man in action, à tolerable income, and the excitement of being a the Moon at its commencement, in conjunction with Angus London celebrity. He dies, and leaves troops of friends, who B. Reach; he started and nearly sustained single-handed a honour his memory by trying to provide for his children. comic paper called Mephistophiles; he was an active contri. When his name is cleared from the fumes of that Bohemia buter to Diogenes, the Comic Times, and several other Punch. which he only fancied he loved, it will show a something that liko publications. His talent in parody was very great, those children may be proud of. If literature is a “bad and his imitations of popular authors are hardly inferior to crutch,” how few “crutches" are better? the Rejected Addresses. He was, at one time, the Brussels correspondent of the Sunday Times, reader of MS. plays EMINENT LIVING ARTISTS.-MR. JOHN LEECH. at the Haymarket theatre, and also the editor of the Atlas weekly newspaper. He contributed occasionally to

BY WALTER THORNBURY, AUTHOR OF “LIFE IN SPAIN.” Household Words and its successor All the Year Round, his I LEAVE it for the date-grubbers and literary resurrectionlast prose sketch in the latter journal being an essay called men after Mr. Leech's death,-(may his shadow never be less “My Advisers." His poetical contributions to the same for many a year),-to rake up biographical facts. I can only journals were amongst the best poems that Mr. Dickens was mention that he was born in London about 1816, and was ever called upon to "edit.” Few persons can fail to admire educated at Charter House, soon after which he began a such pieces as “ Neighbour Nelly," and “ Totty's Consola- triumphant artistic career by, I think, etching a country fair, tions."

or some such humourous trifle, for the printsellers. It His poetical contributions to the old Welcome Guest,-par. might have been only some copy or travesty of Wilkie or ticularly the famous “Tent-maker's Story," and "Doctor John. Teniers, this early work, I know not; but this I know, son” in the new issue of that periodical,--are specimens of that in the Charter House playground still linger among the clear, pure, graceful narrative poems that no English poet boys traditions of such a work by this quick-witted and has ever surpassed. His verses about children will bear laughter-provoking Carthusian. comparison for tenderness, and poetic feeling, and simplicity, Though still, then, in the prime of life, it has been a long with the best of Wordsworth's; and in his translations of career of Mr. Leech's, from comic Latin grammar down to Béranger's Songs, and Victor Hugo's Odes and Ballads, he his last week's Punch work, and his pleasant tranquil success as has so reproduced other men's thoughts as to create fresh a man of name and fortune down in the country. Coming in poems. His power over versification was very great, and it an easy first in the race for popular approval, Mr. Leoch now is particularly shown in his rendering of Victor Hugo's rears his arch face, and lively, watchful, keen eyes far above his “Captive."

rivals and contemporaries. Gilbert draws better, and is more The little volume he published under the title of Songs artful; but he draws too much, and, in consequence, has become of the Governing Classes, if rather wild and untutored in mannered. Keene is more robust and manly; but he is uncerprinciple, is vigorously honest. Everything he wrote was tain, and rather archaic. Crowquill, Hine, and Kenny written from earnest conviction. He never became asso- Meadows, -all of quick and pleasant fancy,--are old, or ciated with the daily press, because his mind was not adapted gone by. Cruikshank, still careful, and neat, and dexterous,

Other ages

hides amongst his thick grove of old laurels. Millais only now and such “low creatures,” more formerly, and his hits were and then charges into the list. Portch is too young, imita- very full and palpable ones, drawn with a broad, dark quill tive, and unformed. Smallfield, Morten, Lawless, and others pen. of the young men, have not elbow-room enough yet to do Now he introduces more figures; gets further west, thinks their best; and then, again, many of these men are not more of the club; is less full-flavoured, does more refined humourists at all, but only book illustrators. As an original fun with even less work; is just as kind-hearted, bat deals humourist, and not as a mere illustrator, however clover, of more with the kid-glove world. His Mr. Briggs now is not a other men's meanings, must we consider John Leech. good-tempered, foolish, blundering citizen, but a drawling

In two things Mr. Leech has been especially favoured by young guardsman, strolling about the parks. In mentioning Providence. First, he arrived in this world at a time when, the preparedness of the world for the avatar of Mr. Leech, from some reaction of seriousness and of continued war, the I should have mentioned among his other good fortunes the whole world had fallen a laughing. There was a demand, such projection of that merry sultan of all comic papers,-Punch; as never before had existed, for a humourist; for Cruikshank a paper which, with occasional veins of dulness, profound as bad ruled the roast so long that people were getting tired of Tupper's and bottomless as Ainsworth's, has yet yielded some him, as the Athenians were even of Aristides. No comet over perfect Koh-i-noors of wit,-a paper which Hood and TennyBrompton or the City indicated Leech's birth : but the world son have adorned, and which Douglas Jerrold used for years was as ready for him as it was for Napoleon or Mohammed, as a platform from which he let off firework displays of or any other of God's awarded reapers. The coming comic sparkling, scorching, singeing, and fulminating epigrams. It man assuredly came when Leech came, and cried, and awoke, is in this ocean of fun that Leech has for years wallowed,-a and found himself in that vast smoky London he was destined Behemoth of drollery. With him, as with your indiarubberto amuse so wisely, and so long. A rich harvest of fun had been backed vaulter, every somersault has but given him at long browning for this little reaper, and his hand grew soon once appetite and spring for another. A humourist with strong enough for the reaping-hook. He arrived into a rich more stamina, with more endurance, with more "bottom,” peaceful world, that had time to hear and look on jokes, and as fighters call the attribute, I never knew. It is, perhaps, gold enough to pay willingly for them. He had not to starve a feature of this fast and not sure age that no previous cenand beg about, laugh at what he loved and extol what he tury has ever produced more prolific men. hated, -as poor Gillray had to starve and do. There was no have had more profound verbal scholars,-more subtle logiperpetual new outrage of George IV. to lash or sneer at; it cians,-more close woven solid writers, -- poets of larger was a more respectable, free, happy age,-more nervous and mind, and painters of more gigantic grasp,-bat they never timid, but less gross and brutal. A fair and level lawn lay had more versatile and swift and encyclopedic men than our before Mr. Leech for his life's race, and off he went at a own. Agile, quick-footed,-quick yet industrious,-compelled merry canter,-evidently a well-bred, high-mettled colt, that for fame and money, and by the cravings of a weekly illustrated would be “a plater,” if time was given him. We English had paper, to work, Mr. Leech has innundated England with merdone with the gin-drinking, pawnbroking, cellar-hiding art. riment, has taught a whole generation how to laugh, and has life; thanks to the Reform Bill and popular patronage, executed drawings enough to fill the “Great Eastern" from “patron ” was now a forgotten term of degradation; and those stem to stern ; drawings that if sold now (probably they who had talent and industry, either in art or literature, could were all on wood, and so have perished), would be worth a mix in the first ranks of England's gentlemen. Leech arrived duke's income to the fortunate owner. in an age when the desire for reading had become an epide. From one great fault of the age Mr. Leech, as far as I mic, when knowledge was spreading like a deluge, and the know, has steered perfectly clear. With all provocations to multiplication of illustrated books, rising daily in the Row, it he has never been personal. Men now sell slander by the thick as gnats on summer evenings, and most of them about pound, retail by penny page club lies, go down to authors' as long-lived, was without end. The age wanted Mr. Leech, houses and then tattle about all they saw, publish friends' and lo! Mr. Leech came in a comic avatar.

letters after death, and write down foul scandal with poisoned Now, if Mr. Leech was merely a comic man, he would pens on poisoned paper, getting so much for every poisoning. scarcely be more worth describing or dissecting than that I do not believe that any face in Leech's drawings is taken blue winged butterfly, that haunts chalky lanes in summersfrom life without alteration ; no, not even that Jeames of the scarcely more worth untangling than the logical inaccuracies fattest calves objecting to the governess reading prayers ; no, of yesterday's leader, or last week's pantomime. But our not even that youngster from Eton, who wakes the governor artist, though often, I regret to say, flimsy and dishevelled to tell him to pass the wine. Leech is never spiteful,to the last degree in his drawing, and totally regardless of all malignant; he never indulges private malice, is never perlaws of art, is not the mere joker who may be the “poor sonal. Even Mr. Dickens, kind and hearty as he is, has been Yorick” talked of at a dinner-table in an antiquarian disinter. Often, often accused,--always I believe unjustly, -of por. ring way by fogies some sixty years hence. No, he has many sonality; but Mr. Leech,-NEVER. faults : he is a little too dandyish in tone, and deals too much In these days, when we know that literary men are not safe with trivialities; but he is never unkindly, never gross. from literary spies, it reflects great honour that Mr. Leech Some think of late he has gone rather too far sometimes for has resisted all these temptations, has betrayed no social prudery,—displays ankles and legs rather more than he need; confidence, and allowed no personal spite to sour his fun and that he deals rather too much with the follies of“ swelldom,” humour. If Mr. Leech is not very wonderful or massive, or which are scarcely general enough in interest : in a word, learned in his light and shade and his composition, he has at that he has moved up from the parlour and kitchen into the least learned, -as this forbearance shows,-not only that drawing-room, and holds perpetual evening party there ; true art, whether serious or comic, is selection, not mere but no one accuses him of being gross, like Rowlandson, or imitation, but also the lesson so difficult to some small cruel and horrible, as Gillray. He is not strong and pas. scribblers, that of not wounding feelings and not breaking sionate enough to be very violent; he is too much a gentle glass windows to get impudent peeps at public men's privacy. man to be indecent. A man who is fond of children, who Mr. Leech, like all true artists of pen and pencil, sketches not argues by his pencil so warmly in favour of domestic happi. individuals but classes; it is only the poor green hand who ness, a man who detests snobbery and vulgarity, can never do cannot invent or re-arrange, that painfully copies an insuffi. harm to the age he lives in.

cient model, and neither adds nor takes away. As we all go from extreme to extreme, life is a succession The true secret of being liked by any set of men is to like of jerks to the positive or the negative pole. A change in that set of men. The man who likes the world, the world style has come over Mr. Leech the last few years; he used always likes ; just as the man who likes you looks at you, to be rather too full-fleshed and vulgar in his figures; they and the man who does not like you looks away; so if you were redundantly funny, but the fun had a little of the comic smile at the world's looking-glass, the glass smiles at you. song exuberance of flavour about it. There was then more Mr. Leech likes the world,-is happy and successful in it, black and white, more of the rollicking bachelor, than now and the world likes the good-natured, happy, and successful that be is restrained and patent-booted. He liked street boys, | man,-the man who courts it from sheer good spirits, and not

never

from self-interest. He whom the world honours, is he who, if better than the woodcuts, and that is saying a great deal. it does not behave well, and be pleasant and gentlemanly, and Perhaps no living writer has surpassed Mr. Leech in lively “all that sort of thing, you know,” would as soon go and and natural colloquial dialogue. smoke a weed, or leave the world alone, as look at it. Your It has sometimes struck me that, after all our great man of good spirits is always liked, if the spirits are not too frescoes, our sacred pictures, and our historical art, you good and boisterous ; it is your ailing dyspeptic friend, whom have to get on stilts to see properly, and don't care about you have constantly to keep inquiring after, that is so unbear. when you have done so, it will be rather a reproach to the able.

art of our age if it should so happen (mind, I do not say it will) I know nothing of Mr. Leech beyond his art; I never saw that our future antiquarians of 1960 shall have to overhaul,him ; but I am as sure he is arch, kind, and manly, as I am that not our frescoes, and our high art, and our academic works, the man who writes a round flowing hand is good-natured, or for the manners and customs, and the follies, fancies, faces, that the man who drawls is “a swell,”—which means rich etc., of the present century,—but the pleasant and vitalized and idle. He is no sickly, pale thinker of the old bookworm- pages of Mr. Leech's folios : but in these they will certainly type, but a hearty fellow, who is fond of the country, is a find our swells and snobs, our anglers and Eton boys, our good shot, and a crack rider after the hounds. He likes grooms and urchins, and our cockneys, -as they were, not London, evidently because it is the great mart of faces, and of us they might have been on the stage, or in Dreamland, those street humours which Dickens has developed so wonder- all embalmed like flies in precious ointments. fully, and he lives by drawing men, not the trunks of trees. How delighted will be the Professor Mole-eye of a hundred Besides, Punch is bought chiefly by Londoners, and they years hence when the New Zealander, tired of Londonwant to hear of the drolleries and social absurdities of bridge, comes down to the earth mounds that mark the site London.

of the British Museum, and asks the professor for informaThat Mr. Leech knows the country well, and, in a simple tion about dress and manners of 1800. The professor, unaffected way, loves it, is evident from ten minutes' study of with gloating eye, will unroll some folios of one John Leech, his folio from Punch. There are little touches of sea-side and will show the intelligent but sedentary savage the adven. places, of brook sides, of coverts,-all thoroughly English, tures of Mr. Briggs, the type of the John Gilpiu of our day, breezy, fresh, unaffectedly true, and unstrained into idealism. the humours of an age long since extinct. The New Zealander The backgrounds we refer to are slight, but they are nume- will learn that, in 1852, we were running into folly on the rous, and show a power that Hogarth himself,—a regular subject of chatelaines, the Exhibition, agricultural chemistry, Londoner,--never showed a glimpse of. Just as a great man horse-racing, steeple-chasing, etc. He will have the comic must have deep sense of both ends of the pole of life,-the side of the age broadly and fully set before him, and will not tragic and the comic,-so I think the real humourist should have to glean its follies and fashions from rare prints, as we possess a loving nature.

men of 1860 do now the ephemerides of 1760. O lucky antiof Mr. Leech's thoroughly English and manly love of our quarian of 1960! The beard movement, the rage for mesmer. great national sport,-fox hunting,-we need scarcely adduce ism, the aquarium madness, the Rarey fancy, the round-hat any proof. Has not Mr. Leech, who has created so many mania, are all embalmed for that lucky and as yet undefined indelible comic individualities, epitomized all the drolleries individual. and blunders of the hunting-field in the person of our dear We really ought to be very grateful to Mr. Leech for thus old friend Mr. Briggs ?-a much more real person, by-the recording our little follies, and our small humourous weak. bye, and doomed for a much longer life, we think, than the nesses, for watching us with such keen, bright, good-humoured Rodomondo of Jones's epic, “The Stars and the Ocean," eyes as he does, making us laugh so wholesomely at ourselves, or than the hero of Brown's novel, “ The Cornet-à-Piston and inserting us one by one in his museum for many a future Player of Stromboli.” Who, too, is more perfect at the generation to laugh at too; nor do we sympathize with those regular rasper," the satin-skinned "bit of blood,” the intensely serious, solemn men, with perpetually clenched teeth fretful whin," and the snob experimentalizer, than Mr. and brandished fist, who do not like to see follies and vices merely Lerch? Why, I would rather have a rough hack dashed laughed at. They, being Heraclites, despise the Democrites ; in by Leech, than I would half-a-dozen of Vernet's melo- they are for putting to the sword the swell who lisps and stramatic Arab stallions and Mameluke steeds of the desert, nicknames God's creatures, and would as soon hear a man --that savour so much of some French Astley's. It is just swear as join in talking playful and expressive slang; using from this honest liking of common pleasures that Mr. themselves poisoned arrows, they despise the tilter with blant Leech is so popular. He does not plant his easel on weapons. Why foolish Mr. Briggs? they say; the satirist's clouds, but on good west-end earth; he likes watering province is to improve society, to chastize vico, to whip folly places, boating, and pheasant-shooting, and all other happy, out of our streets. But dear me, Hystrikos, the whole world sensible amusements. What a caution for Jones the epic does not consist of demigods, though there may be still plenty writer, who never dances, never shoots, never smiles, of Pythons to kill. There are many ways of doing good ;never does anything like any ono else, because his cue is some men help forward good by laughing, others by fighting. to act the genius and look the misanthrope. With no very Mr. Leech chooses to do it by laughing. He is always, if you special "moral purpose," as the cant of our day runs, look, on the right side, and has quiet words to say sometimes Mr. Leech is always on the side of right and justice; no even on such serious things as the sufferings of the poor, and one lauglis louder at popular follies, or more pertinaciously the degradation of some of our country districts,-on the squibs and crackers them. He helped heartily to laugh education question, and on the selfish cruelty of the game out of court the temporary insanity of that unwomanly laws. He dances round us with his bladder full of peas, and Bloomerism; he is fierce against the unmeaning and useless no one knows where it may fall,—now perhaps upon a duke's exaggeration of crinoline ; ho has helped forward the Volun- coronet, now on the bullet head of Tom the groom. It may teer movement, for which we all owe him thanks, and he be small good in the cause of universal progress that these has tried to encourage the greater employment of women in blows do; but still their effect, if small, is wonderfully wide London shops. Indeed, there is hardly any kind, generous in its operation. Mr. Leech is no Titan to burst open bastille movement and progression of the last twelve years that Mr. doors, or drag wretches to the axe; but he is a light tirailleur, Leech has not leant a helping hand to. He has tried to who is perpetually firing from behind wall and bush, and his expose the luxury and insolence of our servants; he has vexed fire is very stinging and galling, and always hits his mark. us with the threatening precocity of the young generations We have heard of the single rifleman who drove back a whole he has struck a blow at every small dirty fungus of folly regiment at a ford in the Peninsula: we should like to see the or vice that has pimpled up for almost the last twenty years. army of fools who dare attempt to storm Mr. Leech's position. Sometimes the fungus he kicks is very small, but still it is a What wailing there would be next day in Fooldom, --what fungus.

grasling of teeth in Bore-avia, And here, apropos of nothing, we may allude to the excel. A few lines from one of Mr. Leech's indexes will admirably lent fun and sense of the legends that Mr. Leech or his friends show the versatility of his humour, and also the favourite append to Mr. Leech's drawings ; sometimes they are even and inexhaustible subjects of his fancy :

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The Roadside on the Derby-day.

America, Leech and Punch would still be indelible under the Special Constables.

shadow of St. Paul's. The fate of Spenser's Fairy Queen, Going to Ascot.

and of Livy's history, can never befal Mr. Leech's butterfly Hints for Prison Discipline.

fancies. Scene on the Chain Pier.

How can I characterize the special technical excellence of A Cheap Day's Hunting.

Mr. Leech? He has not a scrap of poetry about him, yet Fishing off Brighton.

he gives pleasant hints of cushat haunted nooks in the HighWaiting for a Dip.

lands, and of green and flowery meadows, beside English Master's Favourite 'Oss.

rivers. He is material, yet his fancy is sometimes, as in the Prize Vegetarians.

“Fat Perch fishing for Men," quite Æsopian. His line is Memorials of the Great Exhibition.

heavy, and not always very refined ; yet he draws the most The Mayor Coming In and The Mayor Going Out. piquant and unapproachable girls that fair England can rear. Bloomeriana.

Unlike, too, the mere reproducer of keepsake beauty, he The Grconwich Dinner.

draws graceful young men equally well, and the sweetest Betting Offices.

children father ever loved. His horses are full of character; Table Turning.

he draws the screw as well as the thorough-bred; and though Now, from this we see that Mr. Leech, when not watching he likes best the drawing-room, no one lingers with a more street urchins playing, or swells swelling, delights in sea- pleasant smile over the little urchin moulder of mud pies. bathing places, rough rides, yachting, and such pleasant His dogs are good, and his old sailors and cabmen (they must ways of observing old friends in new lights. As he has never pardon the collocation) unsurpassable, and not caricatured. depicted university humours, which I can highly recommend And here let us sum up our verdict, by returning to the him as a whetstone for wit,---though they have scarcely proved bondage of facts, and detailing what Leech has done as nearly so to Mr. Cuthbert Bede, the comic clergyman,--I presume as possible, seriatim. It will show better than comment the Mr. Leech was not a member of either university, but ended versatility and width of his comic talent in a career not yet, his education at the Charter House. No education, however, we trust, half over. though it might have made him more book-learned, logical, Whether our great humourist is any descendant of the and reasoning, could have made his wit or his eye keener. “John Leech, schoolmaster, of

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who in 1650 pubNo education would have made our delightful artist more lished a small 12mo, entitled, serious or more solemn. God made the flowers for the A Booke of Grammar.Questions for the Help of Young butterflies,--the laughable things were given us to laugh at; Scholars. Now the fourth time imprinted, corrected, and but then we must laugh at them as Mr. Leech laughs at amended. Hereunto are annexed, Four Little Colloquies, them,-kindly and wisely. We must not throw somersaults

in Latine, etc. London." over poor men's coffins, or attend club dinners dressed as we know not; and, not being pedigreearians, we are ignorant harlequins.

too whether he is any son of one Dr. J. Leech, who in 1855 It is, perhaps, rather invidious to compare Mr. Leech, a published a work atGlasgow, dedicated “to all genuine Britons man so pre-eminently of the present day, with his predeces- who value their civil and religious liberty, upon the iniquity sors. I think Rowlandson, though less industrious, and less and impolicy of confirming drunkards and lunatics ;" but this read, and less refined, was just as funny ; but then the fun we know, that it was not till 1857 that Mr. Leech ventured on was the fun of a low country theatre. Gillray was twice as independent publication, though as early as 1847 ho appears in strong ; but then he was brutal, savage, licentious, and the British Museum Catalogue. As a matter of history wo unprincipled. I do not think, however, that Leech is equal to append a corrected list of his works, with short critical or Cruikshank, either in artistic skill, variety, or imagination ; explanatory annotations. but he is just as amusing, though he has less fancy. But 1817. Coloured etchings and woodcuts to Gilbert then good old Cruikshank is getting on in years, and is not A'Beckett's Comic History of England.- These were excelquite what he was ; and his old butts,--the fat bishops and lently and unctuously funny, but the book was unfortunately a great aldermen,-are gone away into the fossil-land, and we culminating point of the disgraceful irreverence and flippancy have other and newer butts to slap our arrows into: old to which the "comic school" brought itself, from first creating, frightened Tories, por example, progress-stoppers, and such then pandering, to a transitory taste. cattle. But in two respects Mr. Leech is miles behind the 1818. The Rising Generation, from Punch. Twelve on great George,-in delicacy of hand, and in power of pathos. stone. Folio. There are moments when, ceasing to draw tremendous noses, 1848. Illustrations to Albert Smith's Christopher Tad. and fat boys, and frantic old maids, and such pantomime con. pole.-Exactly suited to Smith's humour, which was racy, ventions, Cruikshank can be awfully in earnest,-as in the lively, but not thoughtful. Gin Trap, where the skeleton, in a woman's mask, proffers 1851. Illustrations to the Month, edited by Albert Smith. the thirsty fool the aqua mortis ; as in the Progress of Crime, 1852. H. H. Paul's Dashes of American Humour : Illuswhere the murderer, dragged down by demons, plunges over trations to.- I have not seen this book. a precipice into darkness unutterable; or, as in the Bottle, 1854. Illustrations to Fullom's Great Highway. -- A where the poor maddened girl flies over the ghastly and death. flashy, melodramatic book. haunted bridge into the oblivion of the sable waters. Mr. 1854. The first volume of Pictures of Life and Character, Leech has no tragic power, so far as he has yet shown. We from the collection of Mr. Punch. regret that in this respect Mr. Leech should be a one-legged 1856. Illustrations to The Parogreens. man; but how can a man be tmagic who has had no oppor. 1857. Merry Pictures, by the comic hands of H. K. tunities for anything but the comic ?

Browne (Phiz), Leech, and others. Folio.-Observe, Leccb Just as Mr. Leech has been fortunate in starting with is put after Phiz. Punch, and in being born in an age that will be illustrated, 1857. Under the pseudonym of Emeritus : thc Militiainen whatever it does,-when photography is benefiting art, and at Home and Abroad.-A droll but conventional showing up art is advancing daily,--so was he also pre-eminently lucky of the effete militiaman. How differently Mr. Leech treats in a century when it is almost impossible that a clever man's the riflemen of 1860, of whom he himself is one.-Vide name should perish. Books and prints are no longer, like “ Artist's Corps," any drill day. sturgeon, luxuries for kings, but are bought by the masses, 1857. Illustrations with J, Doyle to that best of all books who are, after all, the wisest and most generous patrons. of parody,- Theodore Martin's and Aytoun's Bon Gaultier Printing disseminates even rubbish so fast that it becomes (Book of Ballads). These are most admirable, and well now indestructible by the accidents of time. In days before drawn. printing, half the books of Livý perished; now, such a loss 1858. Some of the illustrations to Blaire's Encyclopædia three hours after publication is next to impossible. If French of Rural Sports. fire turned England into an Assyria, Punch and Leech would Second series of Pictures of Life and Character, from be flourishing in America; if tho Tartars broke over into Punch, 1857. ·

Third Series, 1860.

a discomfort. The Gilpin family almost sigh for Chepe 1859. Illustrations Francis's Newton Dogvane.

again. 1859. Illustrations to Soapey Sponge, and other coarse but In this stage of the garden and the gardeners let the present clever sporting books, by the same smart author.

little book come to them. But with a reservation. For per. 1859. The Flyers of the Hunt, by Mills: Illustrations to. haps the author has a tendency“ to protest too much." It is 1859. Illustrations to Paul Prendergast.

not every garden that will pay the rent. Let not every But this list, I am sure, is still imperfect, and misses many suburban dweller survey the little enclosure at the back of his of Mr. Leech's lesser works.

house,-about the size of a large counterpane, with the fond

fancy that he is going to coin that precious property. The THE GARDEN THAT PAID THE RENT. promise may be kept to the ear and yet broken to the hope. When a train-band Captain Gilpin of our time transplants But

, given an acre of garden ground, decently stocked

with himself and family from residence in Chope over the shop Tabour, our author shows that, after perhaps some months of

fruit-trees, with well-expended money and well-bestowed to the neat, detached, standing in its own grounds, smartly loss, the garden may be made not merely to pay its expenses, slated and smoothly stuccoed villa at Edmonton, “the but, above that, to return a moderate profit, perhaps enongh Laurels,” say, from the small evergreens of that pattern play. to pay the house-rent, if that be no considerable amount. ing sentinel at the gates,-we all know that the first notion that will possess his kindled mind will be in regard to the horticultural. Keep rabbits,-a dozen always, the common

But the profits are to be swollen by means not strictly great things that can be done with the garden. To a man brown ones,-recommends the author. You will have quanwho, from the back windows of his dwelling, has for years tities of refuse vegetables, leaves of all kinds. You can buy and years looked

on to nothing more cheerful than the grim, rabbits six weeks old for sixpence each. In ten weeks they grimy blank wall of a neighbouring house, a small paral. will be ready for table, worth eighteen-pence each. As you lelogram of gritty gravel, rank grass,

and dwarfed vege. kill the old rabbits, buy more young ones. They will not tation, the whole neatly half-bound in brick, possesses un. have cost a halfpenny to keep; and if your family eat seventy speakable attractions. He will engage a working gardener in the course of the year, there will be a clear profit to the to put things tidy; he will garden himself. Why not? credit of the garden of three pounds ten shillings. For Captain Gilpin has now leisure on his hands, and is prescribed exercise ; he having developed an amazing ten: anent this anecdote :-"A clergyman was congratulating

The author is quite in love with manure, and relates theredency to fat of late years. He will dig, and his son Tom farmer on the state of his crops. The farmer was still sball hoe, and his daughter Polly shall weed; and, altogether, with such a wonderful combination of labour

and nervous, for there had been bad years. “My friend,' said the intelligence, the garden shall be brought to a great state of clergyman, 'trust in Providence. Providence! yes, yes,' the perfection. Expense is incurred. New gravel, new mould, farmer

, replied; that's all very well; but gie' mey ta doong

cart.' new garden tools, and a bright-red watering-pot; and Mr. Gilpin wears a garden hat and garden gloves, and with garden of the house and garden. Of the dust-hole into which

So, great stress is laid upon the dust-heap and the refuse scissors snips away dexterously amongst the dead leaves; he peered, our author writes : -"

Here are materials that and a summer-house is erected, over which creepers are to festoon themselves and roses twine, and it is expected that it might be elaborated into pork, which you now leave for the will be a delicious retreat in hot weather, when the house is scavengers; more, -which you pay them to carry away.”

Therefore a pig is to be kept, who is not necessarily a disunbearable; and the possibility of enjoying the meal of tea in

agreeable animal, except when he is ill kept; who is not franght with the choicest earthly bliss. And at first there is really fond of wallowing in mud, according to the popular much early rising and hard working in the garden ; and there in a narrow stye, never cleaned out, and suffering from irrita

view of his predilections, but, being doomed to eat and sleep is enthusiasm, and hope, and expectancy, if nothing much tion of the skin produced by continual living in dirt, naturally besides.

But a change comes. The hired gardener is a dreadful buries himself in the mire to allay the consequent itching. hireling; what good he does for his money no one knows, ing. The following is an economical plan :

Draining is pronounced to be the foundation of all gardenHo dawdles about with a birch-broom over his very rou shoulders, he inspects the skics, and mutters prophecies about

“Dig drains three feet deep, and in the place of tiles, which incur the weather, which are seldom borne out by facts. He thrusts ashes, etc., to be a foot deep in the bottom of the drain, and fill up

an expense, empty the contents of your dust-bin, and allow your roots in the ground for the express purpose, it would seem, the remaining two feet with soil. The layer of cinders will form a of digging them up again. He is constantly sitting in the good drain, answering quite as well as though tiles had been wheelbarrow eating mysterious meals from a blue and white used, and having the advantage of costing nothing. Indeed, this handkerchief, curiously knotted. He is unremitting in his use of cinders is a saving, for the dustman will not remove ashes applications for beer. Mr. Gilpin finds digging a sadly back. without being paid for it.” aching business, almost as bad as the rheumatism. He For the foundation of gravel walks broken granite is resigns the working out of detail to others; henceforward his recommended: sole duties shall be those of inspection and direction. Mrs. “Nine inches of this, with one inch of fine gravel at the top, Gilpin has not skirmished amongst the dead leaves, warring forms a perfect gravel walk. Again, six or eight inches of cinders, determinedly with withered vegetation, for a long time. She and three inches of gravel at the top, makes a good substantial thinks the garden a great expense,-a hobby of Mr. Gilpin's, path. The path should of course slope from the centre to the in the enjoyment of which he should now be rather checked sides.". than encouraged. The flowers are not of remarkable perfec. Against insect life, as may be supposed, the author makes tion, considering the toil and time spent upon them; and the unflinching war. For worms, the prescription runs that the vegetables are costly of production, and even then some way grass be watered with lime water, which brings the worms behind the London markets in quality. And the whole to the top, when they can be readily destroyed. To be rid of family have become by this time quite accustomed to the ants'-nests, they are to be deluged with boiling water. Plants garden, and know all about it. It is no longer the fresh joy afflicted with ants are to be immersed in water, until the it was once. Then come apathy and neglect, dismissal of the insects are drowned. Tobacco smoke, or syringeing with hireling, and an end of early rising and gardening; the rust tobacco-water, will get rid of the green fly; black sulphur is eats holes in the red watering-pot, and stinging-nettles appear fatal to the red spider. Earwigs are to be trapped with in abundant crops. The summer-house has not answered bean-stalks, and then blown through the stalks into a pail of expectation; there is a perennial puddle on its floor, whitewash hot water. Scatter cabbage leaves about at night, and you hangs about one's coat after a visit to it, garden insects of will find them loaded with snails and slugs in the morning, to the ugliest shapes have made it an especial haunt, and spider. be despatched then as you please. And,

to finish this Black, webs veil one's face on ingress or egress. It is a mistake and Brunswicker list, arsenicated sandwiches are to be placed at

the disposal of rats and mice. The Garden thgt Paid the Rent, London: Chapman and Kall. 1860. In fine, this is a pleasant little book, to be commended to

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